Left For Dead
by Lady Lex
Summary: Wilson is dying and the last thing going through his mind is the torment he'd endured at the hands of a kidnapper. Warning: Violence/Language
1. Chapter 1

**Left For Dead**

Part One

He woke-up, but was only semi-conscious. It was raining; pouring. He felt something warm flowing through his blackened eyes. Blood. There was so much of it, his vision was impaired. He didn't have a clue where he was. He tried to move but his entire body ached and he felt weak, hungry and dehydrated. He knew he had several broken bones along with cuts and bruises all over the rest of his body. He was in extreme pain and he was freezing. He realized, in shock, that he was naked. He tried to curl himself up into the fetal position so he didn't feel so exposed, but it was no use. He couldn't move a muscle.

_I'm dying, _he thought. And he was right. He was laying there on the ground, some place where nobody would think to look for him, waiting for death to come. He never expected to die this way and certainly not at this age. And his final thoughts were of the terror he had endured for the last few days.

* * *

Wilson's day had started out just like any other day. He got his paperwork done, saw a few patients and tolerated some banter from House. But the day dragged because Wilson had a date that night. It would be his third date with a young woman who he had grown particularly fond of. He wasn't sure if he was in love or not yet, but he sensed that he was getting there. At the very least, he enjoyed her company tremendously. 

He hadn't even told House about Marissa yet. It was almost unnatural; unheard of, not having House come into to his office to hassle Wilson about it. And House loved to give advice on women and dating, even though he hadn't been on a date in who knew how long. Wilson knew it was only a matter of time before House found out about Marissa.

As he was leaving the hospital at last, Wilson bumped into House and they walked out to the parking lot together.

"And what might you be up to tonight?" House inquired, as if he already knew. "Want to come to my place? If you bring snacks and beer, I may let you stay longer than an hour."

Wilson was surprised at the invitation. House was known to be a loner and an invite to his place was a rarity. It was almost impossible to not accept it. But Wilson did not want to break his date.

"I really can't." Wilson replied.

House, looking amused, walked up to Wilson and grabbed his mouth with one hand, squishing it.

"Sure you can," said House and began moving Wilson's lips with his hand so it looked like he was talking. "You just go "_Sure House, I'd love to come over and watch your new videos. What kind of food should I bring? I'll roast a chicken just for you_.""

Wilson pulled away, annoyed.

"I've made other plans, House," he told him, seriously. "Maybe some other time."

"Come on, Wilson," House persisted. "I just bought _The Great Escape _and _Bullit _on DVD. Surely you can't say no to that!"

Wilson still wanted to avoid telling House that he was seeing someone, so he paid too much attention to inserting his key into the slot to unlock his car door. House saw right through it.

"You little weasel, you have a _date_!" he exclaimed, leaning on his cane and observing Wilson for a very long time. The look on his face said it all.

"Yes, I do." Wilson admitted, sighing. "What of it?"

It was plain to see that House reveled in the fact that he had figured it out without Wilson having to say a thing that even hinted at it.

"You know, I don't recall us having a conversation about seeing other people," House said, smirking. "I don't know who you are anymore, James!" He sounded like an over-dramatic actor in a scene from a poorly-made soap opera. "One minute you love me to pieces, the next you want to see other people! I can't handle this!"

Wilson laughed. This was just House's own freakish way of telling Wilson that he was happy for him but a bit disappointed that he was unavailable to go to his place and watch a few videos.

"Come on, Wilson, reschedule," House persisted. "It's _Bullit_. Special Edition. On _DVD_!"

"It's not that I don't enjoy the whole male-bonding thing," said Wilson. "It's just… well… I have _other_ needs, House."

"Oh really?" said House sarcastically. "And what needs would those be? Oh, never mind. I get it. It's sex. When was the last time you got laid, Wilson?" House demanded.

"It's not always about sex you know," Wilson told him, matter-of-factly. "Did it ever occur to you that I might just enjoy the pleasure of her company?"

House forced a laugh. "Yea, right. You pretend to enjoy her company until you can get under her skirt. Yea," he laughed. "_That_ definitely occurred to me."

Wilson could only shake his head. _One track mind, _he thought.

House got on his motorcycle as Wilson opened his car door.

"Would it make a difference if I had a vagina?" House asked.

Wilson was slightly shocked at this comment, but answered quickly. "No. Not really."

House shrugged. "Then I guess it's just me and Steve McQueen tonight." he declared, putting on his helmet.

Wilson paused before getting into his car. "Are you talking about that mouse of yours or the movies?"

"_Both_." said House. He started his motorcycle and sped-off, waving at Wilson.

Wilson waved back, got into his car and drove away, anxious to get ready for his date.

* * *

Wilson arrived at Marissa's house at five on the dot, as promised. He was dressed in a pair of neatly pressed, black dress pants and a collared, button down blue dress shirt. He had just spent forty-five minutes in a flower shop, pacing around, trying to decide what kind of flowers he should buy for Marissa. He thought it would be a nice gesture, being that it was their third date. 

Much to the annoyance of the flower shop's caretaker, Wilson had finally decided on a single red rose. Forty-five minutes and he left with _one_ flower. Wilson apologized, paid for the rose and left.

Wilson parked his car behind a van that was also in front of Marissa's house. He had never seen the van before and he wondered if she perhaps had unexpected company drop-in. He hoped not. He wanted Marissa all to himself tonight. But for all he knew, the van could have belonged to one of the neighbors.

As Wilson walked along the path leading to her door and climbed the porch steps, he noticed that the curtains were drawn.

_Odd, _thought Wilson. It seemed too early in the day for the curtains to be closed.

At the door, Wilson had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he shouldn't be there. Like he should have cancelled his date with Marissa and gone over to House's place instead. Either he was really nervous or he was letting House get to him. He shook it off and rang the doorbell.

"Come-in!" called Marissa's voice from inside the house. She sounded nervous and when Wilson walked-in, he found out why.

There, in the middle of the living room, was Marissa. But she was not alone. There was a man behind her, wearing a ski-mask. He was holding her arms behind her back with one hand, while the other hand held a knife to her throat. She was shaking with fear.

**End Part One**


	2. Chapter 2

**Left For Dead**

**Part Two**

"Marissa…" Shocked, Wilson dropped the rose and instinctively reached out for her, but then someone else grabbed him from behind and held onto him so tightly, that Wilson could barely breathe. He could feel the person's breath on the back of his neck and it made his hairs stand on end. He grabbed Wilson by the hair and pulled his head back, as far as it would go.

"Relax, Pretty-Boy," the man said. "Now don't go trying to be a hero. You'll only get yourself hurt." He also had a knife and he lightly scraped it across the side of Wilson's face, only enough to inflict fear, but not cut. Wilson closed his eyes and his body tensed up. If the man had pushed the knife any harder against the flesh, Wilson would have been bleeding.

"Please, Glenn, leave him alone!" Marissa begged, more concerned for Wilson's safety than her own. She squirmed in the arms of her captor, obviously Glenn. "He has nothing to do with this!"

"He has _EVERYTHING_ to do with this!" Glenn shouted, tightening his grip on her. "Find out who this prick is, will you, Dave?"

Dave, who was holding Wilson, reached into Wilson's back pocket and found his wallet and read his ID aloud:

"_Dr. James Wilson, M.D. of PPTH; Head of Oncology."_

"Well, well," Glenn 'mused. "A doctor. You _have_ been busy, Kitten." He kissed Marissa on the cheek, much to her obvious disgust. He removed the knife momentarily to kiss her on the lips, but Marissa spat in his face before his lips could touch hers. Glenn was furious. He grabbed Marissa violently and smacked her across the face as hard as he could. She resisted the urge to cry and Wilson saw the big red mark on her face that he knew would eventually become a serious bruise.

"Don't hit her!" Wilson yelled at Glenn. He felt so helpless, with Dave's massive arms tight around his chest and stomach. The minute he tried to move, Dave put the knife to Wilson's throat.

"Want me to hit _you_ instead?" Glenn asked. "Alright then." He pushed Marissa to the floor and approached Wilson, shaking his hand out. He made a fist, stepped back a little and lunged his fist right into Wilson's face, giving him a black eye and a broken nose. Wilson had never been punched that hard before and he almost caught himself sobbing.

"You broke my nose!" Wilson moaned. He knew it was broken. He had heard the horrible crack of the cartilage breaking and it was now throbbing.

"If you don't shut your mouth, Doctor, you'll have more to worry about being broken than just your nose." Glenn warned him and grabbed Marissa from off the floor. "Besides, it was too big anyway. I think it's an improvement." He laughed.

"Don't hurt him, just let him go!" Marissa pleaded again. "I'll do anything you want, just leave James out of this!"

"I think you've done enough," Glenn said. He pulled a needle out of his pocket and jabbed it into Marissa's arm.

"Get your hands off her!" Wilson shouted. He was in pain, but he wasn't going to let them get away with abusing Marissa. Even if he couldn't move, at least he could curse at them.

"One wrong move, Doctor, and you'll be leaving here with a toe tag." Dave warned.

"Yea and if we have to break your arm, you can put on your own cast!" Glenn laughed and Dave joined in.

"I _do_ have a job, you know," said Wilson, no longer caring what they did to him. "My friends will come looking for me eventually. And my car is right outside."

At this point Marissa had passed out from the drug Glenn had given her and he let her fall onto the floor, without bothering to catch her. He approached Wilson.

"You think you're little Doctor friends will save you?" he said in a low voice. "Well, fat chance, Rich Boy. Where we're going, they'll _never_ find you. At least, not alive." He grinned, maliciously.

Glenn moved closer to Wilson, picking up the rose he had dropped and sniffing it, almost sickeningly.

"How unoriginal," Glenn said, non-chalantly, breathing the words into Wilson's face. His breath was a mixture of booze and pot.

"What do you want from us?" Wilson demanded.

"Well, I'm sure you can guess what I want from Marissa," Glenn answered, licking his lips. "As for you, I'd like to see you bruised, broken and bleeding. In other words, _DEAD_."

Wilson gulped. He didn't even know these guys and they wanted to kill him. But why? Before Wilson could ask any more questions, Glenn pulled out a gun and hit him in the head with it. He was knocked unconscious.

* * *

Wilson awoke with a massive migraine, obviously caused by being hit in the head. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He tried to focus, but his now black eye wasn't working and his other eye was a bit blurry. 

Wilson suddenly became aware of the fact that he was bound to a chair in the middle of a dark room. There was only a bit of light shining through a crack in the ceiling, somewhere. It reminded Wilson of an old prison movie. He also saw a table in front of him with several strange objects laid out on it, including the rose he had bought for Marissa.

Instantly frightened, Wilson realized that the objects on the table could be used for several forms of torture. He tried to wiggle his hands to get free, but felt a sharp pain across his wrists. When he looked down, he saw that his hands had been bound to the chair handles with barbed wire and his struggling had caused the wire to cut through his skin.

Wilson noticed that his feet were bare and unbound. Moving his feet didn't do much of anything and he wondered why the kidnappers had taken off his shoes and socks. Looking again at the objects on the table, he tried to remember everything he could about the human foot. He could name all the bones, explain all the mechanics… _oh no!_ Wilson remembered that the sole of the foot had more nerves per centimeter than any other part of the body, not including the reproductive organs. He also recalled reading about other countries using a whip on the bottoms of the feet as punishment. Alarmed, Wilson saw a thick leather strap laid out on the table. He panicked and struggled again, only making the cuts on his wrists deeper and more painful. Fearing that he might cut his hands right off, he gave-up.

Just then, Wilson heard a door open and close and footsteps approaching him. In a moment, one of the kidnappers was standing in front of him, this time, wearing a mask only over his eyes. Wilson didn't know which of the two it was, since they had been wearing ski masks before at Marissa's house.

"Hello, Doctor." he said. It was Glenn.

"Where am I?" Wilson immediately shot questions at him. "Where's Marissa?"

Glenn scowled and punched Wilson in the mouth. His lip split open and he tasted blood.

"_I'll_ ask the questions, asshole!" Glenn spat at him. "And any answers I don't like," he ran his hands over the devices on the table, "I'm going to edit out."

Wilson eyed the leather strap and planted his bare feet firmly on the cold floor. He knew very well that it wasn't going to do much good. If Glenn decided to do something to his feet, he would no doubt succeed.

Glenn just kept staring at Wilson with a devilish grin on his face. Wilson wanted to look him in the eye to show he was not afraid, but he couldn't. He _was_ afraid. He was scared to death.

_If only I were more like House, _Wilson thought. He knew his friend would be able to stand up to the assailants and look them square in the eye. He could win a staring contest with barely any effort.

"I promise to be gentle." Glenn said and then his accomplice, Dave, joined them. He also wore a mask only over his eyes, same as Glenn.

"Did you lock the door?" Glenn asked and Dave nodded. "Did she talk?"

"After a little… persuasion." Dave answered with a nasty smile and they laughed.

Wilson felt sick to his stomach. Was Marissa tortured the same way he was about to be? How could they be so cruel to a sweetheart like Marissa? She was so delicate, too. It wouldn't take much to hurt her, horribly. Wilson never could understand why some men were so physically abusive towards women. Even if they were psychotic. He had never even raised a hand to a woman.

"So," Glenn said, after several minutes and a private talk with Dave, one that Wilson didn't hear. "Marissa's been telling us lots about you, Dr. Wilson."

Wilson said nothing. He scowled.

"Let's find out if she was telling the truth or not." Glenn went-on, chuckling. He lighted a cigarette and circled Wilson.

"I'm not telling you _anything_!" Wilson shouted as loud as he could. His voice echoed in the dark room. "I don't care _what _you do to me!"

Glenn puffed on his cigarette.

"Oh, I think you _will_ care," he told Wilson. "Because if you don't talk, I won't take it out on you alone. We'll just take it out on Marissa again… _ten-fold_."

Wilson didn't hide the tears that welled-up in his eyes. He had no choice. He lowered his head in defeat and then felt a burning pain in the back of his neck. Glenn had snuffed out his smoke on Wilson's neck, leaving a small red mark that would eventually form a blister. The pain caused a tear to escape Wilson's eye. Glenn waved what was left of the shriveled cigarette in front of Wilson's face.

"And _that _is only the beginning." Glenn declared.

**End Part Two**


	3. Chapter 3

**LEFT FOR DEAD  
Part Three**

Most of the questions that Glenn asked were about Wilson's relationship with Marissa. But no matter what answers Wilson gave, be they the absolute truth or complete lies, Glenn did not accept them. He was going to hurt him no matter what Wilson said.

At first, it was a few simple smacks in the face, then Glenn and Dave upgraded to punches. Wilson was now sporting two black eyes. He had bruises all over his jaw line and cheeks and his lip was swollen to twice its normal size.

Wilson was putting on a brave front and he refused to cry. He could take the punches. And he hoped, _prayed _that if the kidnappers saw that they couldn't crack him, they'd give up.

Unfortunately, Glenn and Dave were going to do everything they could think of to make Wilson crack.

And so they went on, using the whip on the bottoms of his feet. The first hit made Wilson cry out. The pain shot through his entire body, hitting every nerve like wildfire. Over and over again, Glenn used the whip. Wilson could've sworn it had gone on for hours. When it was finally over, Wilson's face was covered with a mixture of sweat and tears.

"Aw, look, you made the Doctor cry," said Dave, sarcastically. "Now you know how all your patients feel when you tell them that they are going to die." He laughed.

"I don't _enjoy_ telling them that, you know!" Wilson said, in between sobs.

"I bet you do," said Glenn, and Wilson heard him put the leather strap down and pick up something else from the table. "You get to live and they get to die. And you get to pretend you care. Then when they are gone, you have one less person to worry about. Pretty convenient, I'd say." Glenn finished.

"It's not like that…" Wilson whispered, sniffing.

The next thing Wilson felt was the scorching pain of something extremely hot on his bare skin. First on his chest, then his arms and legs and the bottom of his already throbbing feet. Wilson was about to fall to pieces. He screamed, as loud as he could. He shouted at the top of his lungs, crying out for help, then begging for them to stop, begging for mercy. Then finally, he asked them to kill him.

"All in good time, Doctor, all in good time," said Glenn, laughing with complete enjoyment. "It's not fun just to kill somebody quickly. You have to make them _want _to die. You may have _said_ you want to, but I don't think you really mean it yet."

"Please…." Wilson begged again, his voice now hoarse. "Stop."

Wilson could feel the blisters forming on his skin. He wished someone would pour a bucket of freezing cold water on him. He wished he was in the burn ward, House and his team applying cream and antidote to his burns.

The next thing Glenn did was take hold of Wilson's right hand. He studied his fingers for a moment and then proceeded to bend each one of them completely backwards, breaking them. Wilson could hear the cracking of the delicate bones, one by one. He found his voice again and started screaming in absolute agony. Fresh tears poured down his face. Glenn moved to the other hand and was about to do the same thing, but changed his mind.

Deep sobs racked Wilson's insides. His entire body was shaking and he was afraid he would go into shock. He rocked back and forth, slightly and tried to catch his breath and regulate his breathing and heart rate. He managed it, but it didn't last long.

Wilson felt the excruciating sensation of a sharp metal blade slicing through his skin. It started somewhere behind his ear, then moved down his arm, across his chest, down his legs and on the bottom of his now extremely sensitive feet. It wasn't just one long cut. It was several, all over his frail body. He could feel blood trickling out of each wound and he feared he may bleed to death. Maybe that was the idea. Glenn had made it clear a few times already that he wanted Wilson dead. And it looked as though that may very well happen. Nobody knew where he was. There was no hope of ever being rescued. And nobody had heard his screaming. All he could hear was the echoes.

Glenn picked up the rose and ripped the petals off, tossing the stem aside.

"You say you're her boyfriend," he said, scoffing, "yet you buy her a rose. Don't you think her boyfriend would know that her favorite flower is the tiger lily?" He threw the petals at Wilson's face.

Realization struck Wilson like lightning. Glenn was Marissa's ex-boyfriend. The only thing she had ever told him was that her ex had become violent after some time and that she had broke it off. But that was it. Now it was obvious that it was Glenn who was the culprit. Wilson wondered if Marissa had known more than she had let on. Had she known that he was capable of such monstrosity?

Glenn proceeded to finally untwist the barb wire around Wilson's wrists, giving him relief from the searing pain of the wire cutting him. Wilson could barely stand, but Dave forced him to his feet, holding him upright. And then Glenn punched him several times in the stomach and chest, breaking several of his ribs and knocking the air out of him. Wilson desperately wanted to bend over to relieve the blows, but Dave held him up, keeping his abdominal muscles taut, so the punches to his midsection would cause more harm and more pain. Wilson vomited several times, much to the disgust of the kidnappers.

"I guess that's enough," Glenn said, shaking out his hand. "Throw him in the barn with Marissa."

Dave literally dragged Wilson up some stairs and outside, where it was pouring rain. The cold rain pelted down hard on Wilson's body and gave some temporary relief to the burns on his skin. Then Dave opened the large doors to a broken-down old red barn and threw Wilson inside. Wilson fell limp onto the straw-covered ground, the room around him spinning. He was still sobbing, still in pain and he missed his friends. Would he ever see them again? He longed to hear House calling him an idiot or a moron or harassing him about his dates. Anything was better than the hell he had just been put through.

"James! James!" A familiar voice was calling his name. "Oh my God, James, what did they do to you?"

Wilson rolled over and saw, barely, that it was Marissa. She appeared to be completely unharmed, except for a few cuts on her cheek and forehead. She crawled over to where Wilson lay and helped him sit up.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried, burying her face on his chest. It hurt him, but he let her cry and put his arms around her. "I am so sorry, James!" She looked up at him and gingerly, delicately touched the side of his bruised face. "Look at you…" She shook her head in disbelief and her eyes said _"this is all my fault"_. Wilson caught her hand with his and kissed her fingers, lightly.

"You're okay, Marissa," was all he could think to say. "I thought… they said… I thought you had to go through what I have just gone through."

Marissa looked down. "I wish I had."

Wilson took her into his arms again and kissed the top of her head.

"No," he told her. "You don't want that. Marissa, they almost killed me. And they made me beg them to kill me. I've never felt so… weak and helpless."

For a while, they were silent, in each others arms on the cold barn floor. Wilson heard the sound of dripping water nearby. Parts of the roof were leaking. It was a good thing, too. He was thirsty and he would at least be able to clean a few of his wounds. He looked around for a cup and some cloths, but he saw nothing. He ripped off a piece of his blood-stained shirt and carefully lifted Marissa from his arms. He tried to crawl toward the sound of the dripping, but his fingers were all broken on one hand. He grunted and moaned and didn't move an inch. He fell to the floor again.

Marissa seemed to know what he wanted and she took the piece of ripped shirt from his hand, found the leak and moistened the material. Again she helped him sit up and applied the damp cloth to Wilson's head. He winced, but sighed at the slight comfort it gave him, after she did this several times. Marissa even ripped part of her dress to use on more of Wilson's wounds. She tried to unbutton his shirt, but he refused to let her see the blisters.

"Please let me help you, James." Marissa pleaded. "It's my fault you're here. It's my fault that Glenn did this to you."

"No, I'll be fine," Wilson lied. He couldn't let Marissa see all the damage they had done. She knew he was terribly hurt and that was enough. "And it's not your fault, Marissa. I think Glenn was intent on hurting whoever came into your house next. It didn't matter if it was me or not." He shifted a little and leaned against a nearby wall. Marissa joined him. "We need to be strong, keep our heads, try to find a way out of here."

"James, I heard you screaming." Marissa said, quietly. "I heard you. I thought they were killing you."

Wilson turned away. He didn't want to think about the torture they had inflicted upon him. He really didn't know how loud he had screamed. But if Marissa had heard him all the way outside, through the pounding rain, he knew it had to have been ear-piercing which would explain why his throat was raw. He blinked back the tears that stung his eyes and turned back to Marissa.

"We have to find a way out of here, Marissa," Wilson repeated. "I don't want to think about what those two will do to us if we don't. I know they're going to kill me." Wilson quivered at the thought of being murdered. He was more afraid of _how_ they would do it, not when or why.

"Your friends must be wondering by now what has happened to you." said Marissa. "I'm sure they've found your car sitting in my driveway."

Wilson cocked his head to one side in question.

"Well… how long have we been here?" he inquired, almost afraid of the answer.

"Two days, almost." replied Marissa.

Wilson could hardly believe it had been that long already. And Marissa looked completely unharmed. At least, on the outside. But Wilson was glad. Nobody deserved to be put through what he had been put through. Least of all, a woman.

"They didn't hurt you?" Wilson asked, as Marissa moved closer to him and leaned against him as he put an arm around her.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "They just threw me in here and told me to wait. I tried to run away, but there is no way out of this barn. The door is locked and the windows are boarded up. I don't even know where we are." She declared sadly.

If Marissa didn't know where they were, who else would? He highly doubted that the police or House or anyone at the hospital would even know _where _to begin looking. They may have found his car, but would they ever find _him_?

Marissa fell asleep in the crook of Wilson's arm. He was tired, too. But he was scared. Scared to wake-up the next day and discover what Glenn and Dave had planned to do next. He couldn't even prepare himself for anything, because there was just no way of telling what more they were capable of.

But nothing in the world could have prepared Wilson for the following day's events.

**End Part Three**

_Author's Note: I know a lot of you are expecting to find out what's going on with House and his team… what they are thinking and what they are doing. Sorry to disappoint, but I will not be writing about that. I mean, I'm assuming you can all guess what everyone is thinking and wondering where Wilson is at. I wanted this to revolve solely around Wilson. However, House will make an appearance again._

_I wish to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. It makes my day. I thank you for your patience in waiting for the updates. The whole thing is in my head, so the ending will be up soon!_

_Oh, and one more thing. I don't hate Wilson in any way, shape or form. I just got an idea one day. _


	4. Chapter 4

**LEFT FOR DEAD**

**Part Four**

Wilson awoke several times during the night, mostly from nightmares. The barn was pitch black and he could still hear the rain pouring outside. He felt Marissa beside him, asleep and he sighed with a sense of happiness. He was at least glad they were together, despite their predicament. As long as she was there, Wilson felt like he could still protect her, somehow. That one comfort helped him fall back asleep.

Wilson awoke the next morning to the feeling of water dripping on his head. The barn had apparently sprung another leak and right above where he and Marissa had fallen asleep. Wilson was thankful for this. He was so sore that he didn't feel like moving and he _was_ thirsty. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth, allowing the water to slightly moisten his dry mouth and tongue and quench his thirst.

Marissa stirred beside him. She looked around for a moment, trying to remember where she was. She seemed to relax when realization struck. She looked up at Wilson and smiled.

"James," His name was a concerned sigh and she sat up. She studied his face. A swath of wavy hair fell casually on his forehead and Marissa gently brushed it back with her fingers. She then delicately touched the puffy part of his left eye. He winced. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Well, I've felt better." he replied, frankly. He managed to smile at her. "Have some water." He pointed to where the water was dripping above him. Marissa cupped her hands, collected some water in them and drank.

"How long has it been raining, anyway?" Wilson asked.

"Since they brought us here that night." Marissa replied.

"I wish I knew where "here" _was_." said Wilson. "And I wish I hadn't left my cell phone in my car. I wish… well, I wish for a lot of things."

"So do I, James," Marissa admitted. "You want to hear something funny? I was actually going to cancel our date that night. I had a long day at work and I was really tired. But I really wanted to see you, so I decided to suck it up." She laughed a little.

Wilson was surprised and he remembered how House had told him to cancel as well. He decided not to tell Marissa this, otherwise she would feel guilty. Besides, if Wilson hadn't shown-up, Marissa would've been left all alone with Glenn and Dave. He wouldn't be there now.

"I'm glad you didn't cancel, Marissa," he told her, sincerely. "I wouldn't want you to face this alone."

Marissa leaned against Wilson again and sighed.

"I'm glad you're here, James," Marissa declared. "I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. The barn door is locked and they might be gone. They might very well have just left us here to die." She buried her face in his arm and cried.

Wilson didn't know what to say to comfort her. Nobody knew where they were, so he couldn't even say someone would find them, eventually. And he was too weak to even try to kick the already fragile wood walls in.

Wilson almost hoped they _had_ left them there. He didn't want to see those psychos ever again. Unfortunately, he did.

Glenn was the first one to stumble into the barn. He wore a mask again, but was wearing the same clothes he had on the day before, so Wilson knew it was him. He instinctively tightened his arm around Marissa and she huddled closer to him. As Glenn approached them, Wilson saw that his eyes were red and bloodshot. And with the way he was stumbling, he was either high or drunk or both.

"Kitten, there you are," said Glenn. "Did you and Dr. Wilson have a nice little roll in the hay last night? I could hear you moaning like a whore!"

"What the hell do you know anyway? You're crazy!" Marissa snapped, jumping up. "And you're high again, Glenn! Look at what you're doing to yourself!"

She didn't seem to care much that Glenn had called her a whore and Wilson guessed that he must of said it to her several times in her past. But that didn't excuse it and Wilson didn't like it one bit.

"She's not a whore!" Wilson shouted at Glenn. He stepped closer to Wilson and loomed over him, menacingly. At this point, Dave had walked in, slamming the barn door behind him to announce his presence.

"What did you say?' Glenn demanded.

Wilson finally looked him in the eye. "I said she's not a whore," Wilson repeated. "Don't call her that. You have no right to call her that."

"James-" Marissa began, but Glenn cut her off.

"I have more right than you have," he said. "Just because you're a doctor doesn't make you right all the time." He looked at Marissa and smirked. "Besides, I just call them like I see them." He kicked Wilson in the groin, hard. Wilson keeled over in utter agony. Glenn had kicked him so hard, that Wilson was actually crying and he thought for sure that he had been damaged permanently.

"Glenn, how could you!" Marissa gasped and turned to Wilson, who was holding himself as tears poured down his face. "You poor baby, are you all right?" She scowled at Glenn.

"_Him_?" Glenn exclaimed, shocked. "What about _me_? I hurt my foot kicking him like that!"

"You moron!" Marissa yelled, jumping up again. "You're wearing _steel-toed boots_! Do you realize what you could have done?"

"I've had just about enough of your lip," said Glenn and grabbed Marissa by both arms. He slammed her up against a wall an looked into her eyes. "You know what happens to girls who give me lip, don't you? I find a better use for those lips."

Wilson sat-up again, slowly, just in time to see Glenn kissing Marissa forcefully on the mouth. His hands reached under her dress to grope her, perversely. With all the strength he had left, Wilson lunged forward and grabbed Glenn's ankle with his one good hand. He kicked Wilson off and stepped on his good hand (his left) breaking several more of his fingers. Now Wilson had two completely limp and broken hands and couldn't grab onto anything. He cringed as his broken fingers throbbed.

"Dave, dammit, will you get him out of here!" Glenn ordered and Dave complied. He grabbed Wilson under his arms and started to drag him towards the barn doors.

"No, wait," Glenn called to him. "Leave him here. Hold his head up. He might like to watch."

This was about to be far worse than the initial torture Wilson had experienced. Dave forced Wilson to his knees and held his head up. Glenn threw Marissa onto the ground, only inches in front of Dave and Wilson. He tore of her dress, pulled down her underwear and did the unthinkable. Wilson was horrified at what Glenn was doing to Marissa, to her body and that he was being forced to watch every awful minute of it. Marissa kicked and screamed; writhed and squirmed beneath Glenn. She cried out for him to stop, to get off of her, but the more she fought, the rougher he became. Wilson was shouting at him as well, but the violation lasted a good half hour. To Wilson and Marissa, it was more like an eternity.

This was far worse than the leather strap against the soles of his feet, the kick in the groin, the burns, the cuts. Wilson had to watch Marissa get raped and was helpless to stop it. He struggled as hard as he could to get out of Dave's grip, but it was no use. Wilson felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, because he couldn't do a thing to help Marissa. He helped so many people, every day at the hospital, yet he couldn't do a thing at that very moment. Probably when it would've been the most important, the most crucial.

At last, Glenn stopped and released Marissa. Her wrists, legs and inner thighs were bruised from the brutality of the attack. Marissa curled herself into the fetal position and was sobbing uncontrollably. Again, Wilson struggled to get free. He wanted to hold her and tell her that he was there and that he would protect her, but he couldn't.

"Quit your wiggling, will you!" Dave told Wilson, grabbing him by the shoulders and then smacking him in the head.

"I'll take it from here," Glenn said and took over holding Wilson. Wilson still pulled and struggled and Glenn was getting annoyed. He pulled and twisted one of Wilson's arms as hard as he could until he broke it.

"Now if you don't stop your struggling, Doctor, I'll break the other one," Glenn threatened. "And then your legs." He forced Wilson to look up again.

Even more horrified than before, Wilson watched Dave perform the same heinous act on Marissa that Glenn had. He couldn't bare to watch Marissa go through the horror again, but he had no choice. As if that wasn't bad enough, it continued a lot longer. Glenn and Dave each took several turns with Marissa and by the time they had finally finished for good, Wilson had vomited many times and Marissa was laying motionless, on the ground.

Glenn and Dave each gave a laugh and left the barn. Wilson noticed that they had left the doors opened and unlocked. He could hardly believe that they would be so careless. But maybe they were done with them. Maybe they had accomplished what they had set out to do. Maybe they no longer cared. This was all good news.

Somehow, Wilson managed to make his way over to Marissa, walking on his knees. With his good arm, even with broken fingers, he picked up Marissa's torn dress and covered her with it. She didn't move. Her eyes were open and as big as saucers. She was in shock. Wilson knew he had to snap her out of it. They had a chance to escape and they had to take it now. But how could he expect her to get up and just walk away like nothing had happened? It wasn't that simple. After what she had been put through, it would be hard to ever trust anyone again, even Wilson.

He brushed the fallen hair off of her face and looked down at her. He couldn't speak. He wished that they had done it to him and not to her. She was so fragile. Wilson knew that she'd never be the same woman again. Wilson wept openly, his head falling to her chest.

Minutes later, Glenn and Dave returned. They snickered when Wilson looked up with a tear-stained face.

"Back for more?" Wilson demanded. "Well, you just stay away from her, you hear? _You stay away from her_." He threw the words at them like stones. Dave glared at Wilson and Glenn faked a yawn, not caring what Wilson said.

And then it came out. A gun. Straight out of Glenn's pocket. Glenn pointed it at Marissa and fired three shots directly into her chest, one piercing her heart and killing her almost instantaneously. It happened so fast, that Wilson didn't even have the chance to cover Marissa and take the bullets for her. He just sat there, splattered with her blood, his mouth hanging open in shock. He looked at his now dead girlfriend and gasped, putting a broken hand over his mouth. Her beauty, her perfect beauty was tainted with blood. The bullets had left deep holes in her chest. Wilson picked up her limp body and held her close.

"Oh, Marissa," he said, rocking her back and forth in his arms. "Oh God. What have they done to you? What have I done to you?" Wilson had no more tears left. He laid her down again and then screamed as loud as he could, at the top of his lungs. Glenn and Dave were laughing. Wilson fell to the floor, his strength at last, giving out.

"Okay, Doctor, your time is up!" said Glenn. Wilson didn't move. He knew it was his turn. He no longer cared. At least he would die next to Marissa. He waited for the sound of the gun going off, but it never came. Instead, he felt his hands and feet being bound with rope. He was then dragged out of the barn, stripped naked and thrown into the back of their van.

_No, let me stay with Marissa. I want to die with her_! Wilson thought. Glenn and Dave were far too cruel to even give him that privilege If they were going to kill him anyway, why did it matter so much _where_ it happened? Wilson began to wonder how they planned to kill him. Drowning, burial alive, exfixiation… there were any number of ways they could do it that would explain why they had to drive so far out and for so many miles.

When the van stopped, Wilson became numb with fear. It was going to happen. They were going to kill him.

Glenn and Dave pulled Wilson out of the back of the van and tossed his practically lifeless body on the ground. He heard the sound of the gun being cocked and felt the bullet pierce though his right leg. He couldn't even cry out in pain.

"Aren't you going to finish the job?' Dave asked.

"He's as good as dead out here, anyway," Glenn said as they walked back to the van. "Nobody will ever find him. And even if someone does, it'll be too late."

They drove away and Wilson blacked out. He woke-up several hours later, unable to move and in total agony from his injuries. He started to remember everything that had happened to him. He felt death drawing nearer and nearer. As he closed his eyes one last time, he silently slipped away.

* * *

_I must be dead, _he thought. There was a bright light above him. So bright that he could barely focus. He reached towards it, wanting to go through it, to heaven. It had to be heaven. He knew he had died and now they had come for him. This is what patients who had near-death experiences always talked about: The Light. 

Then, a dark shadow; the figure of a person, blocked part of the light.

"Heaven..." Wilson croaked, his voice barely audible.

"I'm flattered," said the figure, "that you would think of me as Heaven. I mean, I know I'm Godly and all."

It was House. The deep voice and dry humor was unmistakable.

"House..." Wilson's voice cracked. His mouth was dry, his lips were swollen and his tongue felt like leather.

"Relax." House ordered, using his pocket light to look into Wilson's eyes. Wilson grunted in protest. He had been held in a dark room for so long, that a direct light into his eyes was painful.

"Damn, you look like hell!" House exclaimed as he continued to examine his friend. He had been doing so for several days already, but now that Wilson was awake, it was a whole new ballgame.

"That bastard must've broken every bone in your body. It took them a good three hours to bandage you up like a mummy!" House told him.

Wilson had so many questions to ask, like had they found the kidnappers? Had they recovered Marissa's body? And how on earth had they found him in the middle of - what he had thought - was nowhere. And was he even partially alive at the time he was found? He had been _certain_ that his time was up and that he would have died, frozen and naked in the pouring rain.

He tried to speak again, but nothing came out. He kept opening and closing his mouth. House sighed, shook his head and poured Wilson a glass of water. He put a straw in the glass and propped Wilson up on his pillows. Since both of Wilson's hands were bandaged, House held the glass for him. He sipped gratefully at the straw for several minutes , before looking up at House through blackened eyes.

"Keep drinking," House said. "You're dehydrated. Severely."

Wilson did as he was told, even though his lips were sore and swollen.

"You are a lucky son-of-a-bitch, do you know that?" House declared. "That bastard left you for dead." He refilled the glass. "What an idiot!" he exclaimed. "If he wanted you dead, why didn't he just finish the job properly? Damn sloppy criminals! Everything half-assed!"

Wilson smiled through his pain. It was just like House to say something like that. For the first time in perhaps, forever, House's sarcasm was sweet music to Wilson's ears.

**END**

_Author's Note: You don't think that is really the end, do you? There are too many loose ends, mainly Glenn and Dave. Don't fret. I've already planned a sequel! Come on, you didn't think I'd actually kill Wilson, did you? No way. He's far too cute. LOL If you have any ideas, anything you'd like to see in the sequel, let me know! _


End file.
